


the time i wrote a bunch of halloween oneshots while sick

by rage_for_love



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance, The Academy Is...
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other tags to be added, Panic Attacks, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 23:30:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12568628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rage_for_love/pseuds/rage_for_love
Summary: What does one do while suffering strep throat on Hallow's Eve? Simple. One writes Halloween bandom drabbles.(All prompts are from hellofanimagination (TeddyBearDoctors)  Halloween prompt meme on Tumblr!)





	1. me and you (sitting in a haunted room)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeddyBearDoctors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyBearDoctors/gifts), [Mickey (whats-your-damage-sugar)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mickey+%28whats-your-damage-sugar%29).



> Suspend your disbelief, 'cause my ambitious ass is doing this.
> 
> Prompt: "I found you crying at the haunted house I work at"
> 
> Pairing: Pete/Mikey
> 
> Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks
> 
> Word Count: 1000 (I try for 100... I write 1000)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

If there's anything an anxiety sufferer knows, it's that panic attacks suck. It's all so horrible; the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach, the smoke signals going off in your brain, the way your body seems to be telling you to just get up and go, even when that's not an option.

  
Hell, _especially_ when that's not an option.

  
Mikey thought he could handle the haunted house at the local fair. Of course he knew none of the screwed-up stuff in the house was real, (in fact, it was pretty lame,) and sometimes he had a stroke of dumb luck that made situations he thought would be anxiety inducing not so bad. So he owed his horror buff brother a short haunted house walkthrough on Halloween, right?

  
The problem was, tonight was not one of the nights where the world decided to work in Mikey's favor. To put it plainly, he was scared shitless.

  
Even worse, Gerard seemed to be picking up on it. Even through the dark fog that clouded the dark hallway, he was able to read his brother like an open book. His smile faded as he looked over at him, turning into an expression of worry.

  
"You okay, Mikes?" he asked. "You're shaking."

  
Mikey nodded. "Fine," he replied. "It's just a little cold in here, that's all."

  
Gerard came to a halt, nodding to one side of the house. "The exit's over there, if you aren't feeling well," he said. "We can get out of here, if you want to."

  
Mikey shook his head, perhaps too fervently. "No, Gee, I'm fine. I swear." He pointed a slightly shaky hand toward the cloudy corridor ahead. "Here, you go ahead and keep going. I'll catch up with you eventually."

  
By then, Gerard's expression had gone from one of mild concern to full-fledged, protective big brother worrying. "Mikey, if you're anxious, we can leave. It's no big dea-"

  
"Gerard, I'm fine," he snapped. "Just keep walking. I'll be right behind you."

  
Tired of arguing, Gerard sighed and shrugged before disappearing down the dark hall.

  
Mikey let out a shaky breath, looking down at his sweating palms. He was sort of surprised that Gee had even listened to him. He always seemed to put his own wants and needs aside to accommodate Mikey's, no matter how much of a fight his younger brother put up. As unhealthy as he knew that was, Mikey didn't expect that to suddenly change now.

  
This is ridiculous, Mikey chided himself. It's just a stupid haunted house, and I'm almost a man, for crying out loud. Any 15-year-old dude who can't handle some shitty wannabe-slashers jump out from behind some walls is a pansy.

  
Somewhat confident with his slightly peer pressure-influenced pep talk, he began to slowly follow his brother's trail, head held high in what he hoped looked like bravery.

  
No sooner had he begun walking, however, did he hear the telltale rumbling of a fake chainsaw. That was when he knew for sure: he absolutely could not do this.

 

With that thought, he surrendered, holding both shaking hands out in front of him. "Please don't!" he yelled, surprising himself. "I c-can't!"

  
Suddenly, the rumbling stopped, causing Mikey to slowly put his hands down.

  
"Dude," a quiet male voice said. "Are you okay?"

  
He didn't know if it was from the shock that this complete stranger actually cared or the embarrassment of going into fight or flight in front of someone who couldn't even see him, but whatever the feeling in Mikey's chest was, it made him burst into tears.

 

"N-no," he forced out. "I'm really not."

  
"Shit, alright," the voice mumbled. A sudden clatter echoed off the walls. It seemed the actor had dropped his chainsaw on the ground. "Do you wanna get out of here? 'Cause I can help you with that."

  
Mikey sniffled. He still didn't particularly want to leave the house, but, at this point, he knew that he needed to. "Yeah. I do."

 

"Okay, then." To Mikey's surprise, he felt a hand brush his, guiding him through the dark with a gentle tug. "Just follow me this way."

  
He let the stranger lead him until he finally emerged into the cool evening air of autumn. He breathed a sigh of relief and seated himself at one of the picnic tables near the exit, happy to have gotten out of a situation that he damn near made unavoidable.

  
He was calm until he looked up to see that the actor who had lead him out was still standing there, a small dark-haired boy just a bit older than he was, adorned in a plaid shirt, zombie face paint, and an expression that insinuated that Mikey had just grown an extra head. Oh, God.

  
"I'm sorry," he said. "Jesus, I don't know what got ahold of me. I just started panicking, and--"

  
"It's alright," the guy interrupted. "I've had panic attacks, too. I understand." He gave him a gentle grin and held out a hand to Mikey, making him all too aware of how cute he was. "I'm Pete."

  
Despite his clammy palms, Mikey took his hand and shook it. "I'm Mikey."

  
Pete released his hand. "Well, Mikey," he said. "Would you maybe be interested in joining me for cotton candy to take the edge off after I finish work? This walkthrough will be my last for the night." He grinned, offering him a wink. "I may have to dress up as a zombie, but I let the other guys work the graveyard shift."

  
Mikey let out a small giggle in spite of himself. Whoever this shitty slasher-wannabe actually was, he already liked him a lot, bad puns and all. "Sure. I'd like that a lot."

 

Even behind the makeup, he could see Pete's face light up. "Great!" he said. "See you then!"

  
With that, he returned to the house.

 

Mikey smirked to himself as he sat waiting for Gerard, and, quite possibly, Pete.

  
_Maybe tonight will get better._


	2. we are all candy coated on the outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Lollirot" by Jack Off Jill.
> 
> Prompt: "Can you smoke candy?" "What?" "Like licorice or tootsie rolls?"
> 
> Pairing: Gabe/William
> 
> Warnings: Brief references to drugs and smoking
> 
> Word Count: 257

"Can you smoke candy?"

The words come out of Gabe's mouth so quickly, it's easy for William to wonder if he heard him correctly.

"What?"

"Can you smoke candy?" Gabe repeats, utterly nonplussed as he flips a page in the magazine he's reading. "Not like chocolate, that would be dumb, but like, licorice and Tootsie Rolls and stuff."

William sighs, rolling his eyes. Of course he had heard him right. He is Gabe, after all. 

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "And I don't really want to."

This is what shocks Gabe, making him look up at his boyfriend. "Seriously? You're not even the slightest bit curious?"

William shakes his head. "Not even the least little bit. All I can see coming out of trying to smoke a Tootsie Roll is Patrick having to call the fire department from next door."

Gabe sticks out his bottom lip. "Ah, come on, babe. I'm out of stuff to try. And wouldn't you much rather me be on Halloween candy than hard drugs?"

"Gabriel," William says. "I have let you do a lot of stupid shit over the years, -- and, though I admittedly enjoyed most of it, I draw the line at letting you smoke licorice in my house."

Without warning, Gabe playfully tackles him, straddling his lap as he pushes William into the couch. "Come on, Will. Don't you want to offer me strawberry-flavored happiness? Don't you want to taste second hand Twizzler smoke on my lips?"

William grins. "I think I'd rather play the Pocky Game instead."


End file.
